Honor Thy Thug - By Wahida Clark Page 0,32

to her little voicemail message, and all it did was urge me to move a little faster. I had to let her know that it was not a game. I wanted what I wanted. As soon as Kendrick gave me the address to her brother, Kevin’s house, we headed on over there. After I thought about it, I had a way to get this silly bitch’s attention. I knew it would get Shorty’s attention as well. This nigga stayed out in Coney Island. It was a nice, quiet spot, and his house was the last one on the block, sitting on the cul-de-sac. Kendrick and I camped out down the street for almost six hours before he pulled up. My muscle was already waiting on him; we were just waiting on their signal.

“What’s taking them niggas so long?” Kendrick mumbled as he shifted from side to side in his seat.

“Stop fidgeting, nigga. You making me nervous.”

“You think we should go in?” He reached for his hammer.

“Not yet. Wait for the word. I’m confident in these niggas.”

Just then, Kendrick’s cell vibrated. He looked at it and said, “Let’s do this.”

He started the car, and we parked right in the nigga’s driveway and got out. It was dark and was beginning to rain. I pulled my hood over my head and followed Kendrick, careful to protect the bandages on my neck.

As soon as we came up the back stairs, the door popped open. “Everything’s ready. You sure you don’t want us to stay?” my muscle, Herb, asked.

“We’ll take it from here!” Kendrick told him.

We followed Herb to the kitchen, where our pawn was sitting at the table. “What do y’all want? Dope? Money?” He was sitting there looking confused, as Knowledge, muscle I had on my team from day one, had his foot propped on a chair standing over him with his pistol aimed at his head. I looked at Kevin closely and saw the resemblance. He looked more like Trina than he resembled Tasha. But there was no mistaking that he was family. Kendrick took off his jacket and pulled out his hammer.

“Y’all good?” Knowledge asked.

“We good. Y’all niggas wait outside,” Kendrick told him.

“Who the fuck are y’all?” Kevin asked.

I pulled out this handmade crafted Sebenza knife that I had been wanting to use. Kendrick let out a whistle when he saw it. “Nice, ain’t it?” I was talking more to myself. I pulled out my cell and dialed Trina’s number, hit the speaker button, and set the phone on the table directly in front of her brother.

“Hello.” She sounded groggy, obviously in a deep sleep.

“What the fuck do y’all want, man? I said take the dope. Damn! You got that,” her brother yelled out. Kendrick quickly put him in a chokehold, and I stuck the knife into his shoulder, twisting it back and forth. “Ahhhhhhhh!” he screamed.

“Hello. Hello? Kyron, I don’t have time for your bullshit,” Trina snapped. She was starting to sound wide awake.

She didn’t have time for the bullshit? Well, me, either. I got closer, grabbed the nigga’s face, sliced the nigga’s ear off, and threw it on the table.

“Owwwwwwwwww! Shit! Fuck! Ahhhhhhhhh!” His eyes widened as he shook and twisted. You would have thought I’d sliced the nigga’s dick off the way he was yelling in anguish, holding the side of his face as Kendrick unlocked his grip. Blood poured through his fingers. “Take the dope! Shit!! Ahhh! Take the dope!”

I picked up the phone and took it off speaker.

“Kevin?” Trina asked in apparent panic. “Kyron, is that my brother?”

“My fuckin’ ear! What the fuck? I don’t even know you.” He was still screaming.

“Kevin! Kevin? Oh, my God. Kyron! His ear? What are you doing to my brother?”

“You took care of that yet?” I asked her.

“Kyron, is that my brother? Don’t do this. Why are you—”

“Did you take care of that?” I asked again as I walked to the living room and peeked through the blinds.

“No, not yet. But I’ma do it. Please, Kyron. That’s my brother. I’ma do it.”

“Now, do you see how easy that was?” I asked her.

I thought about the look in Kevin’s eyes, and it was void of fear. I had to give it to him.

“Please, Kyron, stop hurting my brother.” Trina pleaded with me.

“You got that. Just handle my business. Me and you good, right?”

“Yes, we good.” She started crying.

That was all I needed to hear. I ended the call, went back into the kitchen, pointed the knife in his face, and

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